A/N: Gosh, I'm ashamed of you guys! I actually post THREE chapters in one day, and I get NO reviews. Really pathetic. I should probably go back to the old "fifteen reviews" gig, but as I already have fourteen, that would be too easy. Of course, posting this makes it WAY too easy, but what can I say? I'm fed up with waiting for just ONE review. So here goes. As promised, the sequel to the Nine Go Shopping trilogy.

The Nine In Trouble!

Chapter One

Saruman Reincarnate is, as usual, pacing in Isengard, rather than wreaking havoc over a bunch of short people or getting his throat slit by a sniveling creep who calls him "Sharkey." He is pacing because he is stressed. And he is stressed because he has come to the three-week deadline imposed by himself to assemble a second Uruk-Hai, and he still has five hundred seventy-two super orcs to breed.

Suddenly he gets a call over the palantir. He has programmed his to play Mozart's Sonata K545 movement two, "Andante," and frankly, there's only a certain amount of times you can listen to that without going berserk. He, fortunately, has not reached that certain amount of times yet and uncovers the palantir from under a piece of cloth.

"Saruman!" it immediately roars.

"I thought I told you to call me Saruman Reincarnate," he hisses evilly.

"You did! But I'm not in the mood to be obliging this morning, Saruman!" it roars again.

"Saruman Reincarnate," he hisses again.

"You have not delivered the Uruk-Hai!" it roars again.

"Sauron, Sauron, I still have five hundred seventy-two -" Saruman is interrupted as an orc comes to whisper something in his ear - "I mean, five hundred sixty-eight super orcs to breed. So it is absolutely impossible for me to deliver them at this moment."

There is a strange whistling sound at the other end, not completely unlike that made by a boiling tea kettle.

Finally Sauron responds. "That is definitely a major problem, which, I am assuming, will be resolved soon enough. However, there is another bigger problem, and that is that I have no idea where the Nazgul are."

* * *

The Nazgul are, at this moment, stuck with Smeagol in a prison cell listening to some really disgusting burping noises, which are emanating from a man who calls himself "Bubba." Five is playing his harmonica.

Still in their humiliating barrel costumes, the Nine are hardly having a wonderful time of it. They have been arrested as accomplices to an attempted murder performed by none other than Smeagol, who strangled the Evil Jeweler Dude almost to death. Not only that, but the Ring of Power was wrested from them before they wer thrown in prison, supposedly to be given back to the Evil Jeweler Dude, but what with its strange magnetic powers, it had probably been kept by the cop who took it from them.

The Nazgul faced their arraignment a couple weeks ago, and, of course, being totally unfamiliar with the United States court system, they had no idea what to do. When asked how they pleaded, they promptly responded that, as servants of Lord Sauron, they would not plead to anybody. Then they demonstrated a rather dissonant version of the old patriotic "Minas Morgul Anthem," which caused a lot of strange looks around the courtroom.

So here they are now, stuck in a cell with Smeagol and Bubba, while Five tries to squeak out a few notes on a harmonica.

"Shut up," says Eight, ever the optimist. "You never know who might be watching us."

Bubba emits a loud burp. The Nine are not sure where he gets the gas to burp.

"What're you in fer?" says Bubba hoarsely. This is the first English he's spoken since the Nine and Smeagol were tossed in here.

"That," says One testily, "is none of your business, you tark." One is the rather violent one.

"Hrm," says Bubba. Then he goes back to burping.

The Nazgul start a conversation with each other, one they have been having every day for the past two weeks.

"When is that great idiot Sauron going to get us back?" grumbles Eight.

"Why would he care if he gets us back?" asks the naïve Three.

"That was a rhetorical question, you maggot," retorts Eight. "And anyway, he would need us back because we are the Ring-Seekers. He wouldn't dare send anybody else but us to find the Ring."

"I thought he was going to get us the Uruk-Hai," says Six.

"There's another thing. He promised us the Uruks the very day we were captured. They still haven't arrived. If only I had my cell phone..." says Eight.

"You mean, if only we had our Morgul Blades. We would be out of here in ten seconds," says One.

"The fact is we don't have our Morgul Blades, and no amount of wishful thinking is going to change that," replies Eight, neglecting to add the same statement about his cell phone.

So the Nine ramble on rather boringly about this subject, and so make the reader and writer believe that this fanfiction would be more interesting were its focus on Mordor at this moment...

* * *

OK, there is my first chapter, obviously. I hope that you readers out there will actually seek to get out of the lethargic state you are in and endeavor to write a review, because otherwise chapter two may be rather long in coming. That was not a threat.

~ Anoriel